27. Changing
27
CHANGING
Sarah
I skipped quiz night. I didn’t want to be out and around people. Not normal people, not kids, not mountain-sized hockey players, not the fancy crowd at that dumb Mayor’s Ball, none of them. Kensy, I could make an exception for. Also, she bought over wine, face and hair masks, and Ooey-Gooey ice cream, so I was happy to let her in.
We both sighed happily in our dressing gowns as we lay back, Say Anything playing on the TV.
I raised my glass. “Fuck men.”
“And …,” Kensy added, as we clinked glasses. “If we’re going to be girls in our dressing gowns, eating ice cream, drinking wine, smelling amazing , and watching rom-coms for the rest of our lives, then so be it. I’m good with that.
“Scrubbing men’s shirts, collecting their beer bottles, listening to their snoring, having to hear every sports game that’s ever played on the television at full blast, bearing their children… Love sucks! ”
John Cusack was just about to hold up his boombox in the rain when a rapping came from the door.
“Pizza!” Kensy and I squealed at the same time.
I pulled the cucumber pieces off my eyes, but didn’t bother to remove the face mask. It was highly unlikely John Cusack worked as a delivery driver for Go-Go Pizza these days. Although I couldn’t be entirely sure about that, it was a risk I was willing to take.
Opening the door, I looked with confusion at the suited man in my doorway, who in turn paused with fright when he saw the masked, frazzle-haired woman before him.
“Hi. Erm, Sarah?”
I stared back blankly at him, looking down at his hands and wondering why he wasn’t holding two boxes full of oozing mozzarella-drenched pepperoni with extra banana peppers and the grease leaking through their cardboard containers. When I looked back up at him, he was still waiting for me to respond.
“Yes… Who are you?” I replied a bit snappily, starting to feel angry that my evening in was being disturbed by anything other than hot gushy pizza.
His eyes sparkled as he spoke. “I’m Jimmy. You ready to go to the ball tonight?”
Kensy yelled from the couch, “Make sure they didn’t forget the butter-garlic sauce this time!”
I stood bewildered, “The… Wait. What now?
“The Mayor’s Ball, you got an hour, and I got a dress in the car for you.”
“Sorry, who are you?”
“Jimmy. Hayden’s agent.”
I groaned in reply.
“Look. He didn’t send me. But, trust me, he wants you there, even if he doesn’t know it. So, you’ll be my date for tonight if you’ll have me.”
Kensy came over to see what all the fuss was with the pizza man. Standing there in our ghoulish masks peering at the man, he turned and walked back to his car, opened the trunk, and came back holding a gown covered in a plastic protector.
“What’s going on Sarah? That doesn’t look like pizza,” she whispered to me.
“I don’t know exactly. But, apparently, this man is here to take me to the Mayor’s Ball.”
“The Mayor’s…” Kensy stumbled on the words as Jimmy came back to the door.
“It’s an Oscar de la Renta. The woman who was supposed to wear it just went to rehab - slightly unwillingly and at the last minute - but it still turned up. I think it’s a close fit.”
Kensy repeated his words in a dreamy-sounding voice, “Oscar de la Renta…”
“Okayyy then,” I said to him suspiciously, taking the dress from his hands in a daze as Kensy rocked on her heels next to me.
I turned, closed the door, and we looked at each other in disbelief. Then the screaming started. Was this actually happening? It was straight out of a fairytale.
The next hour was a blur of wild and fantastic energy. Kensy and I feverishly emptying make-up bags into piles, washing, blow-drying, straightening, preening. We did and redid my eye make-up at least four times.
“Kensy… ”
“Uh uh!” She shut me down as she finished delicately lifting my lashes. “Stop thinking! Just turn it off and go have the evening of your life. I swear, Sarah, I’ll be mad as hell if you mess this up.”
“Okay. Thanks, Kensy,” I told her affectionately. “What’s he doing now?”
Kensy went and pulled back the curtain as I slipped into the dress. The softest satin and lace pressed against my skin like a sensual love letter. The shimmering cracked effect of the pattern seemed to come alive in the light as the blanket of perfect joy gently bobbed around my ankles. I can’t believe this fits, I whispered to myself in disbelief.
“He's still just sat in his car waiting. I think he might be air-drumming.”
She turned back to me and gasped, “Are. You. Fucking. Kidding me!”
I looked over to the full-length mirror and my hand rose to my mouth. There was no denying it. I looked fucking incredible. I mean, I glowed in that dress. This must be what superheroes feel like when they put on their costumes. Suddenly pulled out of being dull and ordinary and changed into something amazing. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d looked or felt remotely like this.
“No, no!” Kensy cried out as the tears came to my eyes, “The make-up!”
She held up her handkerchief and gently dabbed at my wet eyes.
“Hey,” she stood back, her mouth hanging open. “My God. You look absolutely stunning, Sarah.”
Then it was Kensy’s turn to dab at her eyes.
“Well, I guess I’m ready then.”
“More than ready,” she said, admiring me so intensely that I couldn’t help but blush in delight at her dazzled attention.
I stepped outside and my mystery date quickly hopped out of the car and walked round to open the passenger door for me with a surprised and pleased look on his face.
“You look fabulous, Sarah,” he told me softly as he approached. The look in his eyes told me he meant it, too.